


Dirty Talk

by Demenior



Series: Prince and Lionheart [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Wreck Shiro 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 06:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12293745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: Shiro has a problem. He can't... he can't, well, he can't finish. On his own. Thankfully, he knows someone who might be able to help. And Rahjim is only a phone call away.





	Dirty Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I missed Rahjim! <33
> 
> This story is technically a spiritual sequel to Royally Screwed. You don't *have* to have read RS to read this story, but I'd highly recommend it to understand the relationship between Shiro and Prince Rahjim :)
> 
> This is set a few weeks (maybe months) after RS, and continues the fact that Shiro has some trouble connecting with his own body. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Damn it!” Shiro snarls, and drops his head back against his pillow. 

He slams his fist into the mattress, and for good measure he does it again. At least  _ that  _ feels good. Better than the drying spit in his palm, and the useless dick lying flaccid against his thigh. 

It’s been weeks. 

He’d slept like a baby for days after his night with Rahjim. At first Shiro had thought it was just exhaustion, but he’d never felt better. He’d felt alive for the first time in months. 

And then, it started. It was like he was hungry, with a craving, but nothing satisfied it. He was thirsty, but nothing quenched it. He was tired, he was wired with energy.

For a while, Shiro wondered if he’d gotten sick from his night with Rahjim. Or maybe it was his arm, finally poisoning him like he always worried. 

Until, standing in the shower, Shiro realized he was aroused. 

He’d felt a little stupid after that. And ashamed. But it had been so long since he’d been just honestly, genuinely, casually turned on that he had no idea what it felt like anymore. He’s so fundamentally dissociated from his own body that he doesn’t know how to function in it anymore. But he’s finally solved the issue.

Problem solved?

_ No _ . 

Because every time he tries to take care of it, he loses steam halfway through and ends up trying not to cry in the shower because no matter how much he touches himself he just can’t stay hard. 

So here he is. Again. Laying in bed, lights off so he doesn’t have to look at himself, and can just picture… something. Anything. Other than himself just pathetically jerking off with one arm and failing at it. 

What’s worse is that he can still feel it. That coil of arousal in his gut. He can chase it and chase it like a dog chasing traffic, but he gets nowhere. 

How was it that Rahjim was able to get him to come so many times in one night? 

Shiro debates a moment just calling him to ask. 

Actually…

Rahjim did ask him to call, for anything. 

Shiro fumbles in the dark for a moment, it’s hard with one hand, but he’s trying to take his prosthetic off at night to give his stump some relief. Some nights it’s too much and he has to leave it on, and deal with the soreness and the swelling, and others it’s too much to get it back on and he’s stuck without a second arm for a day or two. But right now he’s doing fine, so he was hoping he’d also be able to get off. No such luck.

He finds his datapad tucked just under his pillow. This is… this is a monumentally stupid idea. But he’s desperate. He can’t focus when all he can think about is how badly he wants to come, and how his stupid body can’t get on board with the idea. 

Shiro tucks himself back into his pants while the line rings. It would probably be best to not have his dick out when calling the Prince of a solar system. Then again, Rahjim is the kind of guy who would like that. 

Shiro’s told to hold a moment while his call is patched to Rahjim’s private line. It’s then that he realizes exactly how stupid he’s being. He scrambles to end the call before Rahjim picks up and he has to explain himself—

“Shiro?” Rahjim says happily, “to what do I owe the honor?” 

Woops. Shiro bites his lip. What does he say?

“Shiro?” Rahjim asks again. He’s as handsome as ever: hair messy like he just woke up, wearing a loose robe and the lighting indicates it might be morning there. Rahjim squints at the screen and leans closer, “Shiro? Can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” Shiro says, “sorry, I’m here.”

“Your screen’s dark,” Rahjim says. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m, uh, I don’t have the lights on,” Shiro admits. 

Rahjim narrows his eyes, “Why are you calling me in the dark? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Shiro says automatically. He reaches out for the panel on the wall beside his bed, and raises the lights.

Rahjim’s smile grows, “There you are!” and then his smile gets mischievous, “you look flushed. What were you doing in the dark?”

Shiro should abort mission. What is Rahjim going to do for him, on the other side of the universe? He can’t fix Shiro’s problem, and Shiro shouldn’t be relying on him to do so. 

“Are you okay?” Rahjim asks gently, “what’s wrong?”

It’s easy to trust Rahjim, just like the night they were together. Shiro’s still working on being honest about himself. He promised Rahjim he would do his best. 

He drops his gaze in shame, “I’m broken,” Shiro sighs, “my body, it… it’s not right.”

“You’re not,” Rahjim insists quickly, “what’s troubling you?”

Shiro gestures at himself, and can’t bring himself to face the screen, “I, uh, I can’t… I can’t, you know, finish.”

“Finish?” Rahjim says slowly, and Shiro hears the gasp of realization, “oh. You can’t orgasm?”

It sounds pathetic to lay it out like that. What kind of problem is that? There’s many more things Shiro should be worrying about, but this is the one that he can’t get off his mind.

“Not since you,” Shiro mutters, “I just— my body is fucked up. I don’t know what to do.”

“Can you come to me?” Rahjim asks, “I’m afraid I can’t get away, but if you can bring your lion, or another ship. Come see me, I’ll take care of you.”

Shiro shakes his head, “I can’t. We’re in the middle of some important stuff.”

Rahjim sighs, “That is a problem. Well then, can anyone there help you?”

Shiro shakes his head before he even thinks about it. Nope. He doesn’t want to bring this kind of complication to the team.

“Is that what you were doing in the dark?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro sighs, and nods, “I, uh, I don’t really know why I called you. Honestly. I was kind of hoping you might know what to do, but I think I’m just desperate.”

“You don’t have to be desperate to talk to me,” Rahjim insists, “but… as it stands I have some time right now. I might still be able to help.”

Shiro’s eyebrows lift as his heart skips a beat, “Really?”

“The Castle has projection tech, right?” Rahjim asks, “can we switch our call to that line? Do you know how?”

Pidge has given them all an introductory walkthrough. Shiro’s pretty sure he remembers. 

He switches the lines, and there’s a moment of bright static in the middle of his room, and then, there’s Rahjim. Standing tall and glowing in the morning light from where he is, in a short robe that hangs open on his chest and falls high enough on his thighs to just barely keep him decent. Shiro has to crane his head to look up at him. 

He’s only a hologram, but Shiro can feel his body lighting up again in Rahjim’s presence. 

“May I sit down?” Rahjim asks. Shiro shifts to the side to let Rahjim sit on the edge of his bed. He doesn’t shift the mattress, as he has no weight. Every so often the feed skips, and his edges blur slightly as he goes out of focus. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever done this,” Rahjim admits, “but if you’re willing to let me, I’d like to try and help you.”

“How?” Shiro furrows his brow. Rahjim can’t physically touch him, even if his eyes see Rahjim, he’s just a hologram feed. 

“I can speak to you. Guide you. Watch you,” Rahjim says with a wink.

“Oh,” Shiro realizes, “like, like phone sex?”

He’s done it a few times. Gotten off with a partner over the phone. It always felt kinky at the time, but ultimately kind of pointless. 

At Rahjim’s curious look, Shiro answers his own question, “It is phone sex.”

“You’ve done this?” Rahjim asks.

“I can’t believe you haven’t,” Shiro replies.

Rahjim shrugs, “I prefer to be in person. I can’t feel you through a call.”

Right, Shiro recalls. Rahjim’s empathetic. Sex for him is more about the emotional aspect, rather than the physical. 

Shiro feels a little guilty that he’s forcing Rahjim into this, “If you don’t want to—”

Rahjim’s finger shoots out to hover just over Shiro’s lips, “I offered to do this because I want to. Just because I haven’t tried it doesn’t mean I won’t like it.”

Rahjim stands, and reaches out for a moment. Shiro watches curiously— the feed doesn’t show him what Rahjim’s reaching for. He pulls in a chair and brings it to the edge of Shiro’s bed so he can sit down.

“Should I tell you to take off your clothes?” Shiro jokes. Rahjim’s barely wearing anything to start with. 

“No,” Rahjim says, “because I’ll be giving the orders today.”

Shiro licks his lips, “Okay,” So, they’re really doing this. He’s… not sure where to start. He probably should be wearing something a little more attractive than the Altean spare clothes he’s been using to sleep in. They’re too big for him, so they’re shapeless and baggy. 

Rahjim settles back in his chair, “Now, first thing: dim the lights a little. I want you to feel comfortable, but I want to see you.”

Shiro obeys, and then reaches for his shirt.

“Not yet!” Rahjim scolds, “I didn’t say take it off.”

Shiro pauses, “Sorry,” he says. 

“Just relax,” Rahjim says gently, “stop thinking. Close your eyes if you need to. I want you to just follow my voice, and trust me to take care of you. Can you do that?”

Shiro nods slowly, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Rahjim grins, “let’s begin.”

* * *

“Lay down,” Rahjim says, “make yourself comfortable.”

Shiro drops back onto his pillow and shifts his body a bit to settle in. He turns his head to look up at Rahjim.

“Where are you holding tension?” Rahjim asks, “I want you to breathe deeply, and relax your shoulders. You should sink into the bed with every exhale.”

Shiro closes his eyes and breathes deep. Breathing exercises are always so boring to him. Besides, he’s not trying to go to sleep, he’s trying to get off. This is all very backwards.

“You’re thinking,” Rahjim scolds.

“You don’t know that,” Shiro says without opening his eyes. 

“I don’t need to feel your thoughts, I can see it in your face,” Rahjim says with a laugh, “breathe with me.” 

Shiro resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he follows Rahjim’s inhale and exhale. He feels a little heavier, stretches his legs out a little more. 

“Now bring up your hand to your mouth,” Shiro moves slowly, “and kiss your fingertips, and then touch your cheek.”

Shiro cracks open an eye.

“I’m not there to kiss you,” Rahjim explains, “so we have to find a substitute.”

Shiro can’t help but laugh a bit at that. He feels a little silly, but he does what Rahjim asked.

“Good,” Rahjim says in a low tone, “now, just do exactly as I say.”

Shiro sucks in a heavy breath. Damn, he’d forgotten just how much he liked Rahjim’s voice.

“A few rules: you have to obey my orders without hurting yourself. I also need you to tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable,” Shiro nods in agreement, and Rahjim continues, “I’m not there to sense what you’re feeling. I’m trusting you to be honest with me. And I want you to tell me when something feels good. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Shiro nods.

“Also,” Rahjim adds, “one final rule: you may not touch your genitalia until I say you can.”

“That’s not really a sexy word,” Shiro points out.

“Rule’s aren’t meant to be sexy,” Rahjim counters, “they give us the freedom to have fun. But do you know what is sexy?”

Shiro scrunches up his nose, “If you say me—” 

“It’s definitely you,” Rahjim says. 

Shiro groans, and covers his face with his hands, “You’re terrible.”

“Now, I recall that your chest is sensitive. Touch yourself there, slowly,” Rahjim orders.

Shiro has to look away from Rahjim’s gaze. He’s getting goosebumps that Rahjim is just watching this. 

Then again, Shiro’s not really sure how to put on a show. He gropes at his chest, palming over his nipples. It really… well, it always feels better when someone else does it. 

“That doesn’t look like it feels nice,” Rahjim comments.

“I’m doing what you said,” Shiro retorts. He feels embarrassed that he can’t get this right. Honestly, it’s bad enough that he’s calling Rahjim to beg for help to just jerk off. Now he can’t even touch himself properly. 

Rahjim sighs, “Now wonder you’ve had such trouble. Why can’t you touch like you love yourself?”

“This is just supposed to be a sex call,” Shiro reminds him. 

Rahjim props his face up on his hand, and he’s smiling despite Shiro’s sour attitude, “It is. And you agreed to follow my orders. So I’m ordering you: touch yourself with love.”

Shiro moves to comply, but he doesn’t know what else to do. So far anything he’s ever tried has been a failure. He sighs heavily and looks up at Rahjim, and thinks about their conversation on trust. How Shiro wants to trust him, and is trying to, one step at a time. It means being open. Exposed, like a nerve.

Shiro musters his courage.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, and stares at the ceiling. It’s easier when he’s not looking at Rahjim. 

It’s a pretty pathetic thing to say. 

“Then close your eyes,” Rahjim says, “I’ll show you.”

Rahjim’s voice is like a guide in the dark, “Trace the lines of your body— lightly. You have to be gentle. Think of how I would touch you. Your hands are my hands right now.”

Shiro can remember having Rahjim’s hands on him— he remembers how hard it was to get Rahjim to  _ stop  _ touching him. All the casual touches, running his palms over Shiro’s skin, feeling the groves and scars on Shiro’s body. Sitting in the cockpit and showing Rahjim how to touch his body. Everything had felt so good that night. Rahjim’s hands were warm.

Shiro spreads his hand on his chest, palm down. He runs it slowly down towards his stomach, imagining the breadth of Rahjim’s hands, of Rahjim’s eyes watching him. He drags his fingernails back up the same path. It makes the hair stand up on his arms.

“Do that again,” Rahjim orders. 

Shiro breathes a little harder. He gets chills again. 

“Now lift your shirt, let me watch. Use your fingernails— softly— on your skin. I’d follow every touch with a kiss, if I could.”

Shiro can picture that. Rahjim kneeling before him, pressing a kiss to the skin pull taut between his ribs. Rahjim’s hands sliding up his sides, coming up to grope and squeeze at Shiro’s pecs. Shiro tries to imagine his voice—

“Talk to me,” Shiro asks, “what would you be saying.”

“I want to make you breathless,” Rahjim replies without missing a beat, “I love the shape of you in my hands. And when I squeeze,” Shiro performs the act on himself, “you take my breath away instead. But I know I can make you writhe when I trace a nail around your areola.”

Shiro obeys. He licks his lips. The switches are coming back on— this feels good again. This feels nice. He wants more, but Rahjim hasn’t moved yet. 

“I want to tease you here,” Rahjim confides, “I want to touch and hold you until you writhe and beg for more. I might pinch a little, to keep you interested— yes, just like that— and I’m going to keep this up, pinch one, rub the other, until you start to make noise for me. I want to hear you, Shiro.”

By the end of their night together, Rahjim had pinpoint accuracy on all the ways to make Shiro moan. It’s not at all unreasonable for him to make Shiro a mess from these kinds of touches alone. Shiro’s like putty in his hands, and he  _ wants  _ to be. He loves having Rahjim’s hands on him, having Rahjim’s eyes and attention on him. 

Shiro pinches, and tugs, at one nipple, and it stutters his breath. 

“Yes, good. Just like that,” Rahjim purrs, “a little harder now.”

Shiro’s more than happy to comply. The next pinch he uses a little nail, and the blend of pain and pleasure makes his toes curl and his back arch. 

“Oh Shiro you’re beautiful,” Rahjim says, “I want to kiss you so badly.”

Shiro moans in agreement. He wants Rahjim on him, his solid weight straddling him, his hands everywhere. 

Shiro opens his eyes, breaking the illusion and making his hand his own again. He’s panting, breathing hard. It feels good. He rolls his head to look up at Rahjim, who’s watching with rapt attention. Shiro brings his hand up to his mouth to kiss his fingertips again. 

Rahjim’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he lifts one of his hands to kiss his own fingertips. Shiro breaks into a smile. 

“Would you put your mouth on me?” Shiro asks. 

“I would love to,” Rahjim agrees, “but under the circumstances, perhaps—”

Shiro pushes two fingers into his mouth— the two he’s been using to kiss Rahjim with— and keeps eye contact. Rahjim slowly closes his mouth, eyes wide, and says nothing. 

Shiro pulls them out slowly, being sure to get them wet enough, that when he reaches down to tease his nipple again his fingers are wet enough that it almost feels like one of Rahjim’s tongues. 

Rahjim breaks into a wide grin, “How clever you are! Good, good, Shiro.”

Shiro flushes at the praise. He can feel a surge of arousal because of it. Almost enough to be embarrassed about it, but he was trying to show off in the first place. 

But he’s aroused. Yes, good, he can feel it. Enough kindling to stay warm, low in his belly. He’s getting hard, and Shiro is desperate to believe that Rahjim can make it stay. 

“Do you have any lubrication?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro won’t forget the delight Rahjim took in massaging his prostate until Shiro was seeing stars. He won’t forget how much he actually loved it. 

“No,” Shiro says, “but I can just use spit. It’s fine.”

Rahjim shakes his head, “No, we won’t do any penetration then.”

Shiro finds himself a little disappointed by that. But relieved at the same time. If anyone’s going to touch him like  _ that _ , he wants it to be Rahjim. In person. Not by proxy.

Shiro’s still absently thumbing at his nipple, enough to make his toes cure and make him spread his legs a little. He’s been here before, aroused and ready to go, and been unable to hold it.

“What next?” he asks. 

“This part gets tricky, but I think you’re up to the task,” Rahjim says, “you still cannot touch your cock, but I want to tease your testicles, and the area around. But first, take off your pants for me.”

Shiro hooks his thumb into the waistband of his pants, and has to lift his hips to wiggle them off. His erection is enough to make his cock jut out, and it’s growing by the minute. He imagines that Rahjim has him projected so he’s laying across his desk, so Rahjim can just sit back and enjoy the view. 

Shiro kicks off his pants and looks to Rahjim for instruction. 

“Do you want to take off your shirt?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro’s forgotten it was still pushed up to his armpits. But he likes the thought that it was hastily shoved up in a fit of passion. He shakes his head no. 

Rahjim sighs heavily, and drags his gaze up and down Shiro’s body, “You are incredible,” he finally says, “I could drink you in.”

Shiro feels himself flush, and bites his lip. He tightens his hand into a fist to keep from stroking himself.

“First, the inside of your thighs. Give them a kiss from me, and a gentle touch.”

Shiro kisses his fingertips and traces his hand up the sensitive flesh on each side, drawing his nails back down light enough to give him goosebumps and no marks. His knees fall wider open, and he thrusts up into the air. Yes,  _ yes _ , this feels so good. 

And then he gets to reach down, and he’s so tempted to touch himself, to rush for the release that’s within his grasp and deny Rahjim’s orders. But he’s been on this edge so many times, and the direct approach doesn’t work. He can’t lose this time. As long as he obeys, everything will be fine. Rahjim knows what he’s doing, and, Shiro wants to obey him.

Shiro reaches down and wraps his hand around his balls. He’s so unfamiliar with his body now. It’s easier and less unsettling to imagine his hand is Rahjim’s, with his wide-eyed curiosity and adoration. To feel it as Rahjim’s hand cradling, tugging and squeezing. Teasing enough to make Shiro start panting again, make him curl his toes and raise his knees towards his chest. To press his fingers to the sensitive skin behind his balls. 

Rahjim encourages him at every turn. Shiro follows his every order, even as it makes him twist and turn, and want to roll over onto all fours to buck into his hand. His hips can’t get the right angle from on his back. So he’s simply on display, at Rahjim’s mercy, and Shiro loves it. 

Shiro pulls his hand up to pinch hard at his nipple, and the overload of sensation makes his mouth drop open in a near-shout, as his back arches with how fantastic the touches are.

“Yes,” Rahjim says, and Shiro’s only vaguely aware of it, “lose yourself to pleasure. Lose yourself to me.”

Shiro switches between reaching between his legs, and groping at his chest. He’s starting to drag his nails a little harder, to leave some lines, and he’s biting his lip to try and stay quiet but he can’t stop the soft grunts and moans escaping him. Rahjim encourages him at every turn. 

Shiro feels him everywhere, in every touch and every wave of arousal. His cock is leaking, beading precome to drip onto his thighs. Rahjim doesn’t let him touch himself. 

“Do you feel me taking you to the edge?” Rahjim asks.

“Yes,” Shiro groans.

“Do you want to come for me,” Rahjim asks.

“Yes,” Shiro moans.

“Will you obey me?” Rahjim asks.

“Yes!” Shiro shouts.

“Then stop,” Rahjim orders.

Shiro pulls his hand away, and gasps raggedly in the aftermath. His body is  _ singing  _ for touch. He’s so aroused. He crumples in on himself, knees curling to chest but also trying to fall wide. He fists his hand in the bed sheets to keep it away, and lifts his hips as he whimpers. 

“You are so good,” Rahjim says, “what have I done to deserve someone as wonderful as you?”

Shiro moans at the praise, “Please,” he pleads, “please!”

“Shiro I want to have you like this, every night. You deserve to be adored. Does this feel good for you?” Rahjim continues.

Shiro whimpers. The praise is enough to make his dick twitch. He nods.

“Have you been good enough to deserve this?” Rahjim asks. 

Shiro’s erection is as hard as he’s been since his night with Rahjim. He’s never gotten this far.

“Yes,” Shiro agrees. 

“Should I let you come tonight?” Rahjim asks.

“Yes!” Shiro begs.

“If you want to come, then you can touch yourself,” Rahjim says. 

Shiro almost shouts in relief as his hand closes over his cock. 

“You’ve been so good,” Rahjim says, encouraging, “I will let you have this. I want you to come for me.”

Shiro moans Rahjim’s name, as he drags his fist up and down his length. It’s like lightning hitting his body, his limbs seize with every stroke. He’s chasing the edge of the cliff, the leap into the unknown, with every thrust, and Rahjim’s presence fills every inch of his senses. 

“Do it, Shiro,” Rahjim orders, “let me have it. All of it.”

“Rahjim!” Shiro keens. He has his head turned to the side, so he can see Rahjim’s face. Rahjim’s full attention is on him, eyes bright and wide as he leans forwards. Shiro bucks up into his hand, mouth open with the moans he can’t hold back anymore. He feels like his eyes could roll into his head. Rahjim’s eyes are the only thing anchoring him.

“I love you,” Rahjim says, awed.

Shiro comes with a shout. 

He clamps his eyes closed and loses his connection to the world. His brain shorts out, stops functioning momentarily. Every inch of him is seized with pleasure as his back arches off the bed and he finally,  _finally_ comes.

* * *

Shiro blinks awake, boneless and lax, with Rahjim softly calling his name.

“Mm?” he asks.

Rahjim laughs, and Shiro can hear the smile in his voice even if he can’t open his eyes all the way just yet, “Did that feel good?”

Shiro stretches his arms above his head, and points his toes down, “It— it was  _ incredible _ . Thank you.”

He manages to blink his eyes open, head lolling to the side. He feels boneless and heavy with fatigue. 

“Good,” Rahjim smiles, and licks his lips, “I love watching you orgasm.”

“I’d like it more if you were here,” Shiro admits.

“We will have to plan a visit, soon,” Rahjim agrees.

“Yeah,” Shiro nods. 

“I’d like to taste you again,” Rahjim says. 

Shiro drags his fingers through the come on his stomach, and makes a show of licking them off. Rahjim licks his lips. 

“You’re so good to me,” Rahjim says. Shiro bites his lip, a little bashful, “Did this help?” 

Shiro stretches out again, and then sinks into the bed, nuzzling his head into his pillow.

“Yeah,” he agrees. It’s barely a word, more of a noise of agreement. 

“I’m glad,” Rahjim says, “and I’m glad you called me for help. Don’t ever hesitate about that.”

“I might have to call you again,” Shiro mumbles, “I can’t get it to work on my own yet.” 

“Then we can make this a regular meeting,” Rahjim points out. 

Shiro thinks about having Rahjim order him to orgasm on a regular basis, with only Shiro present to touch himself. It sounds divine, especially if he gets to always look into Rahjim’s face as he does so. 

Shiro agrees with an enthusiastic hum, and snuggles into his blankets. 

“Sleep well, Shiro, I will speak with you again soon,” Rahjim says. 

“I’d like that,” Shiro replies. Now that he’s finally dealt with how horny he’s been, his body feels like lead. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open.

Rahjim raises his hand to kiss his fingertips one last time. Shiro brings his hand up from under the blankets to mimic the gesture, and touches them to his cheek in a light kiss. 

It makes Rahjim smile fondly at him. 

“I love you,” Rahjim says as means of goodbye. 

“Love you too,” Shiro says, and gives a little wave.

They end the call, and Shiro has to force himself to reach out and hit the lights to turn them off. He rolls back, blankets tucked tight around him, and falls into a deep, sated sleep.


End file.
